


The wife

by Mitsuky



Series: Awakening [7]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Fluff with a side of popcorn and Dum-E's smoothy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:06:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25093573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mitsuky/pseuds/Mitsuky
Summary: It takes time, but finally, Tony finds Hela.How will she react to the changes of the last five thousand years?
Relationships: Hela & Bots, Hela/Tony Stark
Series: Awakening [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1769674
Comments: 2
Kudos: 68





	1. Rescue team

Adrestia sat in front of Hephrodistus, observing the crowd around them with contempt. Asgard always raised that feeling in her, but now it was exacerbated many times over.

Knowing what Odin did, _to his own daughter_ , made her blood boil.

For the past many weeks they visited the Golden Realm, getting an insight into what the aura of the place and the people was like at the moment. With the second Prince lost to the void, dead most assumed, and the royal family ‘in mourning’, it was a little less shiny and boisterous than usual.

Not for any feelings of loss or care for the disappearance of Loki, mind, but in respect for the feelings of their King, Queen, and Crown Prince.

The Queen was obvious in her sentiment of loss for her son, spending more time alone, smiling less, avoiding crowds and feasts; while Thor, the few times he made a reappearance from his missions off-world, was less transparent but equally feeling the emptiness created by Loki’s absence as he was seen to be mellower in his attitude. The King, if he felt any difference with the change in his life, wasn’t showing it.

Adrestia never visited much this realm, but it was always obvious that Loki wasn’t much liked. He was always too different, preferring magic to weapons, reading to fighting, being more in control than his _older_ hard-headed brother, and being talked about and mocked for all of that.

Now it was known why he’s always been so different, as it was revealed that Loki was born Jotun. Who brought it to light, it wasn’t known, but the ripples created by the news were unmistakable; people stopped the gossiping and whispering, outright destroying to pieces the image of the younger Prince without remorse now.

After the war against Jotunheim, many willfully forgot that their own King is half Jotun, hating the race of giants that they know nothing about but speculate and assume much about.

She sneers at the Asgardians without restrain, and can’t help but admit, if anything, that Odin knows how to keep his throne safe and his subjects ignorant and malleable.

Many times, she wondered why Hela was so cold and stoic, and then Adrestia travelled to Asgard.

If there is one thing she can freely agree with others, when the Gods of different pockets get together for some reason, is that Asgardians are a distasteful bunch.

“Quit it with the glares, sister,” Hephrodistus sighed, rubbing his face tiredly after many hours of people-watching, “You’re getting the guards riled up.”

Adrestia made a swift scan of their surroundings, noticing with annoyance that her brother was right, and huffing angrily.

“I’m sick tired of this, ‘Distus,” she grumbled, pulling her emotions in order and fixing her expression, “If I didn’t know how strong the _bastard_ is,” she hissed the word with all the hate she could muster, “I’d go tear his ward down right now and be done with it.”

“Patience, sis,” Hephrodistus mumbled and took a swig of mead, grimacing at it. Was it too much to ask for some whiskey? Tch, Asgardians.

* * *

“So,” Rhodey started and trailed off, observing the Gods moving around and preparing everything for their task, “Your wife.”

Tony rolled his neck, stretching his limbs and changing. Hephrodistus fixed the straps holding his armour in place and sat net to his friend. “What about her?” He asked once done.

“What is she like?”

Hephrodistus grabbed his white cloak and adjusted it around his shoulders, sighing. What is Hela like? Truthfully? She’s a menace. The most dangerous warrior of the Aesir. A complicated woman, for sure. A silent and coiled snake waiting to attack. Asgard’s executioner. The Goddess of Death. A destroyer of worlds… and most certainly, the only reason Odin was capable of gathering so much power so quickly.

Or, was?

After Odin’s betrayal, is pretty much impossible for him to have her at his beck and call ever again.

If Hephrodistus knows something about Hela, is that you never cross her with the expectation to survive later. There is a reason why the Valkyries are no more, as Adrestia discovered; why Alfheim, the land of the proud Light Elves, surrenders control to Asgard to this day, he should know, he witnessed the massacre that was that war; and even why today she lives, imprisoned behind powerful wards as she is, but still very much alive.

What crossed Odin’s head when he started to plan for a peaceful future for Asgard is anyone’s guess. Hela was born, raised, and lived her entire life for war. How he expected her to comply suddenly to his expectation of peace, Hephrodistus can’t understand.

“Hela is-” Hephrodistus hums, looking out the windows and the blue sky outside “-danger.” With a sigh, he rests his back against the couch and turns to look at Rhodey. “I knew little to nothing about her when our marriage was set up between Odin and Zeus to end the war; and it was the hardest time ever after we bonded, getting to know her. She’s independent, strong, powerful, intelligent, dangerous, a killing machine when the time calls for it; she’s also gracious, stunning, elegant, sharp, and loyal if you learn to see beyond the mask and the actions hiding her true intentions; and she knows how to listen and respect boundaries once you’ve broken under the shell and got her to accept you.” He takes a deep breath and continues, “I like to think we were friends, but with her, it’s hard to tell at times. It took me thousands of years to learn to see beyond her harsh words and dismissive attitude, but I never finished understanding her. Between the short time we spent together, and the differences in our cultures, Hela wasn’t very accepting or open, and I was young and too stupid yet. She had five thousand years on me when we married, and I was but a boy of eight centuries.”

After a long beat of silence, Rhodey speaks in a soft whisper, “She sounds interesting.”

Hephrodistus snorts, hitting Rhodey’s knee with a heavy hand, “Think of it like this, if Pepper had an _'evil'_ twin, that’d be Hela.”

Rhodey shudders dramatically, turning wide eyes at him and a twitching smile, “Perish the thought, the woman is scary enough already!”

They keep it together for a second and broke down laughing sprawled on the couch when they couln’t hold it anymore.

“Nemesis is here,” Adrestia announced a moment later, making Hephrodistus jump to attention.

“Well,” he stood and looked down at Rhodey with a nervous smile, “Time to go fetch my wife. Wish me luck.”

Rhodey shakes his head, standing and hugging Hephrodistus with an arm, “You’re about to try and cheat a very old and powerful God, to steal his imprisoned daughter, who is a seriously dangerous case _and_ your wife. You don’t need luck, Tones, you need a freaking miracle to make this work. But, for all that is worth, I hope you can do it.”

They stepped on the balcony, with Eros, Wesson, and Adrestia waiting already around a swirling disk of darkness expanding on the floor. Hephrodistus took just one look at it and shivered, causing Rhodey to turn at him with a questioning glance as he stopped walking midway to their goal.

“Everything okay, Tones?”

“That depends,” Hephrodistus replied with dread. “Adrestia, you didn’t mention that Nyx was also coming.”

His sister turns to him, smirking just as nervously as he feels, “Don’t look at me. I have nothing to do with this.”

The void stopped expanding then, not giving them time to talk anymore, and two dark shapes raised from it like shadows given life. Nemesis, beautiful as ever, raven hair long and dancing at the rhythm of the air, golden accessories glinting under the light of the moon, and her dark blue gown hugging her body, stepped forward first. Then, the darkness shivered, raised, and hung in the air like smoke as Nyx’s shape started to surge and become clear in front of them; her hair hung dark and long at her back, her dress equally so hugged her figure and ended up mixing with the darkness at her feet until it was impossible to say where it ended, and the dark pits of her eyes looked impassively at them.

Nemesis cleared her throat, “I hope you don’t mind, but mother wanted to accompany us,” she said breaking the silence, smirking, and actually sounding as if their opinion mattered to her.

Hephrodistus shivered once more, unnerved by the silent and still presence of the Personification of the Night. Adrestia, meanwhile, stepped in front of Nemesis and kissed her friend’s cheek in greeting.

“Of course,” Hephrodistus replied courteously when he found his voice, bowing to the Goddesses, “Mother Night is always welcome in my home.”

Nyx smiled, barely a twitch of her lips. “Relax, child. I’m actually interested in messing around with Odin for once, not you.”

Hephrodistus laughed awkwardly, “Well, extra help is always appreciated.”

Suddenly, the mission didn’t seem so impossible anymore, Hephrodistus thought as he relaxed. With the help of Nyx and Nemesis, it should be a done deal. Even Zeus faltered in the face of the Night Queen, so, with her backing them, taking Hela from her prison should be easy now… or so he hoped.

Sending a short prayer to grandpa Chaos, Hephrodistus embarked in the quest to rescue his wife and hoped against hope that Odin had a lick of common sense left in him yet.

Calling Nyx’s sudden intervention a miracle may be a bit of a stretch, but, Rhodey was onto something there.


	2. Finding the elusive wife

The plan was simple. Go as close as possible to Hela’s position, study the wards one final time in case something changed in the last twenty-four hours, create a backdoor to exchange the woman with the decoy as quick as possible, and get the hell out of there as fast as they could while at the same time covering their tracks.

With Nyx backing them, accessing Niflheim turned _easy_ all of a sudden. The place was a positive breeding ground for darkness, which the Night Queen used to move them into the realm swiftly and to scan their surroundings once they landed.

Every second spent in Niflheim was utterly and unspeakably **_intolerable_.**

It’s called the Realm of the Dead for a reason after all.

_The only realm of Yggdrasil that’s been dead for as long as anyone can remember._

The ‘air’ or lack thereof made it hard to survive the place during their journey, even for them. The thin air had them using magic to breathe, but even then, the incessant presence of fog and no source of light made it difficult to see anything, so they had to redirect magic to their eyes too; and as if that weren’t bad enough, the pressure of the gravity was far stronger than recommended, making it imperative to strengthen their bodies with even more magic, unless they wanted to move at a snail’s pace.

_Living_ in Niflheim for any period of time is most definitely out of question then, and Hephrodistus wondered, not for the first time, what is it that he’ll find once they take Hela out of her prison?

Five thousand years, he remembers, shivering.

They don’t have to go too long to find what they’re looking for. The overwhelming magical presence of the wards are felt from far away, like a beacon leading them to the heart of the prison, where darkness raises, like living tentacles of shadows that denote the limits of the wards.

Dark matter, Hephrodistus thinks with a grumble, never seemed more troublesome as of right now.

Eros, Adrestia, Hephrodistus, Nemesis, and Nyx, form a circle in front of the ward. Magic hums in the air around them, combining and growing, prodding with the softest of touches, doing their will and sparkling with restrained strength in the surface of the ward like a dome that takes shape as they study how far it reaches.

Time tickles by at the same fast and agonizingly slow pace. Hours, minutes? Times goes on and magic does their bidding, with small sparkles here and there as the only sign of their work.

Finally, they find a segment of the warding scheme that looks promising, and unwarded, unlike the rest. A safeguard in case Odin ever needed to take it down, the thought from Nyx filters in their connected mind-scape, explaining with an amused tilt.

Hephrodistus’ disbelief and resulting anger is equally felt and shared by the other four of them.

They don’t want to take the ward down in it’s entirely though. That’d alert Odin of their action and cause, at least, a war between Asgard and Olympus… If it doesn’t kill the old codger first in the backlash. But no, that’d be a too lucky result for him.

Who ties their life force to anything? _Nuts that one_ , Hephrodistus thinks with an eye-roll.

Nyx, the oldest, strongest, and wisest of them all, takes on the effort of unravelling a piece of the ward-scheme while Hephrodistus takes out the decoy and prepares to make the exchange when the signal is given. The sightless, unmoving body that resembles Hela floats close to the ward, in wait for the right moment; looking at it causes Hephrodistus to grimace.

When he asked for a piece of power from Hades, his grandfather did nothing more than look at him with a bereft and piercing stare, then, laughed coldly, passing him a sphere of swirling darkness, his essence, and bidding him farewell without a single question. The man may claim neutrality all that he wants, but Hephrodistus knows him better than that. He _lives_ to see Zeus in a tizzy.

When he visited and asked an old friend for her contribution in a project of his, the Queen smirked knowingly, created a golden sphere, and made him promise to visit more often, also forgetting about any questions before he left. Granted, the Heliopolis is nice, but Ra is a little too much like Odin for his tastes, so he may visit, but not as often as his friend would like.

With the two energies, from the God of the Dead and a Goddess of Death, the signature coming off of the decoy is close enough to the real thing that anyone will recognise the energy of Death coming off the unresponsive body and think Hela simply lost her mind after all the time she spent in this nightmarish hell hole, but different enough combined together that none of the donors can be traced to their source and Odin will hopefully realize that there is nothing he can do to ‘fix’ the decoy if he ever takes a look around.

With a grunt, Nyx announces her success a moment later, and everyone breaths easier once the exchange is finished, with Hela, the real one, breathing but unconscious in Hephrodistus’ arms.

* * *

As previously agreed, the second they were back in his tower Nemesis put a block on Hela’s power and then Hephrodistus was free to march his wife to the private med-bay.

With someone always ready to answer his call, the doctor appears on the doors of the med-bay only ten minutes after he was awakened. In that time Hephrodistus adopted his Tony persona once more, changed Hela out of her battle armour and put her into simple blue scrubs, and was in the process of cleaning his wife’s dirty and bloody body.

Her hair is an utter mess and he really hopes to avoid been there when she awakens and starts complaining about it.

Dr Taylor steps up to the patient and starts attending to her methodically. He takes notes of all the bruises, cuts and odd bumps in Hela’s body; broken bones he explains and Tony twitches, angry; this earns the doctor’s attention, but he’s worked with Tony long enough to know better than to ask. Taking her blood pressure and a blood sample—he has to sign _another_ disclosure contract for that, much to his surprise—the man leaves with the good news that she was only exhausted and in need of hydrating, but he’ll check her blood for any problems there, per Tony’s request.

With the human gone, Adrestia walks in the med-bay soon after and starts healing Hela. Eros, Wesson, Nemesis, Nyx, Pepper, Rhodey, and Happy come and go during the next days, staying and looking in silence for a few minutes (Nemesis and Nyx), or to show support and ask how she was doing.

During the waiting process, Hela recovers a healthy colour and stops looking so thin, and Tony sits for hours on end next to her, Adrestia also present most of the time.

The doctor visits later during the first day and is gobsmacked to notice the differences in the woman, asking out loud how her broken bones got fixed in less than twelve hours, and shaking his head when Tony simply smiles mysteriously in answer. When he leaves, Tony starts working with Jarvis and compiling a shortlist of stuff to buy for her.

The second day the doctor is recovered from the shock and checks Hela with his usual professionalism. He makes a slight change to the liquids in Hela’s IV and leaves with a comment of how well she looks already. Tony continues working on the tablet and preparing for her to wake up.

The third day the doctor tells Tony that it’s safe to move her, takes the IV off of her in the morning and by noon delivers a sheet with the results of the blood sample, alongside a sheet with her dietary needs for…usually it’d be for the next couple of months, but after checking her blood, he’s sure she’ll be okay in four to six days. The doctor looks at Hela once final time and shakes his head, mumbling about unbelievable things, and takes his leave.

With Nemesis and Nyx gone, Happy driving Rhodey as he was called for an emergency, and Pepper working; it’s only Tony and Adrestia who are around when Hela wakes up in the late evening. Eros and Wesson are away for the moment and waiting for the all-clear after Jarvis announced the awaited event.

Adrestia sits on a chair by the window, silent and expectant. Hephrodistus sits on the end of the bed, observing every reaction and waiting.

Hela only opens her eyes after seconds of assessing her surroundings by the sounds she can hear. She looks at the ceiling, then at Hephrodistus, the rest of the room, Adrestia when the sun blinds her as it shines against the Goddesses’ golden accessories, and she blinks. No emotion crosses her face.

“Where am I?” She asks with a croaking voice, clearing her throat afterwards.

“My home in Midgard,” Hephrodistus answers unwavering and direct.

Adrestia’s breathing turns heavier but he keeps his attention focussed on Hela.

“How long?” Hela asked with clipped words. Her anger becoming apparent now.

“Three days since we take you from Niflheim. Five thousand years since you were sealed away,” he answers before Adrestia can complain. His sister shuts her mouth with a loud sound of teeth clicking together and he feels her angry glare coming from where she sits.

“My powers are bound. Why?”

“Because-” he makes a short pause then, making sure his wards are up to par and using names won’t attract unwanted attention. His magic returns to him two seconds later and he realizes his wife is looking curiously at him, “Because, Odin doesn’t know that I bailed you out of prison and I’d prefer he remains ignorant. I’ve been exiled by Zeus, just for asking too many questions about you. If anyone learns what I did now, they may start a war next since me, a measly Olympian, intervened with Odin’s ruling.”

“And you thought if I had my powers, I’ll go berserk on the old man, blowing the secret,” Hela comments as her anger dissipates, eyes returning to some random spot in the ceiling and staring tiredly at it.

“Also,” Adrestia says from her spot, “Because we care.”

Hela’s deadpan stare makes Adrestia and Tony snort.

“It’s been _five thousand years_ , Hela,” Adrestia insisted.

“Many things changed since you last were around, darling,” Hephrodistus explained and Hela turned pensive. “Odin may be weak and old now, but he still has the support of Frigga and his sons-err…his son.”

“Oh?” Hela exclaimed, now more interested in what he has to share.

“Do you want to hear about Odin’s last fuck up?” Hephrodistus whispered conspiratorially and earned, finally, some kind of positive reaction from the Goddess.


	3. Pull yourself together!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hela tries to gain some semblance of control over her life once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this ready for days, I just forgot I had to post it, sorry! 😅

Silence… Again with the damn silence! She.Can’t.STAND.IT! Darkness, silence, nothingness. Niflheim is just as boring as a thousand years or two ago.

She misses the bustling streets of Asgard, full of people and children. The sun blinking high in the sky and bathing her in its glow as she walks the luscious halls of the palace. The food, by all that is holy in the multiverse, the food! A big, grassy—even though she usually hates it—roasted pig, she’d kill for one right about now…

The release of air from somewhere nearby makes Hela turn her head and pay attention. Whispers reach her ears and she stops squeezing the rock in her hand so hard and glaring at it as if it was the cause of all her pain since her imprisonment started, or her obnoxiously boring surroundings.

“…ela~” The sound is gone as quick as it appears. Like a whisper of air rushing past her ears.

Her vision blurs, her ears pop, she blinks…and Niflheim disappears, in its place is a dark room and a man struggling for air under her hand as she holds his neck with pressure, the entangled sheets around their feet rustle as his feet move in his struggle for air.

“-arvis, lig-s!” The man gasps between pants and the room comes to life, illuminating everything and showing her the unknown surroundings, making her tense and turn wary in an instant.

Hela cocks her head, observing the male under her as he pants her hand gently even though he must be really low in air supply; his face is red enough. Chocolate brown eyes and wrinkles of age greet her as she observes their face with coldness, as if he’s an ant struggling under her finger.

“He…la,” he whispers, voice rough.

Does he know her? She releases a little bit of her hold and the man breathes deeply, wheezing, once, twice. She’s curious, how does he know her?

“Not that I don’t like it kinky from time to time, but-” Hela frowns and squeezes warningly. The man chocks, grits his teeth, and apologizes brokenly as he’s back to fighting her hold on his throat. “-orry…so-rry! Sto-p!”

Golden-blue fire comes to life between them, out of nowhere, and Hela releases the man, jumping away with a hiss. But, looking down at her hands, they’re just a little warm unlike the burnt flesh she expected to find.

On the bed, a golden-white clad figure sits up.

She looks up and breaths deeply. She recognizes this man now… heph… dist… her… Her husband…?

Hephrodistus?

The molten gold of his eyes, staring, unnerves her, “Stop staring!” She hisses low and threateningly.

Surprisingly, the man doesn’t complain and turns his gaze away, grabbing some odd and slim object from the table to his right and touching its surface. The thing illuminates and something moves in the surface of the object.

Hela blinks, feeling suddenly numb, she blinks again, trying to understand what is happening. Pinpricks start to come to life in all of her muscles and she gasps, falling to the floor when her legs give out under her without her permission. A headache soon follows and she rubs her temple with two fingers, grimacing at the annoying feeling; the ghost pain of broken bones makes her wince at the movement and she stops, looking at her wrist confused, she had many broken bones there, didn’t she? What happened to them?

Lowering her hand and looking down at her body, she notices the obscenely short nightgown she’s into and touches the shimmering black fabric with two fingers, rubbing them and becoming entranced by the sensation of the soft silk smoothly brushing her skin.

Light, natural light, illuminates the room as the sun starts rising in the horizon, and like a broken spell her mind turns sharp once more, _remembering_ and making her dizzy, she finally understands where she is and who is in the room with her.

Her ears pop again and Hela rubs her face, stands and walks out of the room, angry with herself.

Since she woke up, two days ago, the same thing has happened every damn night! It’s like she’s two different persons, the one dreaming and still trapped in Niflheim, waking up and manhandling Hephrodistus in one way or another; and the one that remembers everything that happened since he took her out of that hole full of _skíta_! It’s maddening. She hates not being in control of a situation, and much more, not being in control of her own body.

The sound of her feet hitting on the tiles of the floor follow her to the kitchen, where she starts preparing a cup of tea. Hephrodistus showed her everything around the place, and even though he likes that swill he calls coffee, she prefers her tea much better and keeps to it. She never thought about bilgesnipe piss before, but the first time she drank coffee she couldn’t help but compare the two together. Hephrodistus’ reaction to her proclamation was worth the disgusting taste that remained on her mouth afterwards, she remembers as her mouth twitches with an aborted smile.

Once the tea is ready, she walks to the open space of the living room and sits in a chair overlooking the city expanding all around ‘Stark Tower’. She has faint memories of the last time she visited Midgard, something about stopping a war between two different pantheons going on amongst the humans, she thinks. She never felt more than contempt for the Council of Godheads, but at least some of them have good heads on their shoulders and choose her to deal with the problem swiftly and efficiently.

If only her father was as intelligent.

Clearly, living for so long has had a bad effect on him. What was it that Hephrodistus called the king? Sane… no, obviously no. Sale… seni…? _Senile_ , that’s it.

“Jarvis?” She called without looking at the ceiling like the first time.

The construct, **_Hephrodistus’ child_** , is a marvel and she’s not about to say otherwise, but it surprised her that her husband changed so much in the past years. Something she never before expected was _him,_ out of all the Gods, to sire or otherwise create a child of their own volition. And Jarvis isn’t the only one, Dum-E and U are like needy children that follow you around for attention, but at the same time quite self-sufficient and without the need for constant vigilance and care.

Hephrodistus explained the previous day about his situation. Banished, raised as a human for the past several decades, adopted by the Starks and raised as a rich kid, leader of one of the most important companies of Midgard, inventor and scientist, creator of AI’s; and he gave them _souls_ even though he didn’t know it at the time; and now, Jarvis also had _magic_ of his own after Hephrodistus recovered his memories and realized he had _children_ to take care of and nurture.

“Yes, mother?” The voice answered her from the walls.

Not for the first time, Hela observed the walls with wonder, and the glow hiding behind the concrete where Jarvis’ consciousness travelled along the wiring connecting him to his body underneath, in a secure room. As Goddess of Death, she learned to see souls after the _Lady_ blessed her with a spark of _Her_ power, and it was with great surprise that she observed the _white_ souls of Jarvis, Dum-E, and U, when she met them yesterday. White is the colour that only babes have during their first years of life; the purest of colours, for the purest of beings, untainted by the hardships of life yet.

When Hephrodistus told her that all three of them are decades old, she almost couldn’t believe him. But a deeper look at their souls was all it took, and she accepted it as truth. There are many things someone can learn from a soul.

Hela smiled for a short moment, looking at the steam rising from the tea-cup, and surprising herself with her reaction. An unexpected warmth extended over her, calming her anger from earlier when she reacted badly as she woke up, smoothing the edges of her constant restlessness, and making her realize that for the first time in a long while she felt content about something—and there was no type of bloodshed involved.

“What is the meaning of senile?” She asked after a second. Mumbling softly the translation the Allspeak gave her from the human language to Aesir.

“Senile,” Jarvis spoke with a clear pronunciation, “Is and adjective. Meaning, of a person, having or showing the weaknesses or diseases of old age, especially a loss of mental faculties.”

“Thank you,” Hela whispered, humming and admitting to herself that the word was more apt than she expected.

And, clearly, the Allspeak needs an upgrade, because what she got for a translation was a vague word that Aesir use for something a little different.

“You’re welcome, mother,” Jarvis replied in a sotto voice.

A thin eyebrow raised on her face as Hela realized that since yesterday, Jarvis referred to her only as ‘mother’ all the time, when previously she was ‘Miss Hela’.

“Why do you call me that?” She asked curiously.

The answer was slow to come, but after a few seconds, Jarvis replied. His voice though had an undertone that she recognised as guarded, wary, hurt even. It’s really something wonderful, how Hephrodistus was able to give life to a construct even with all of his magic bound tighter than a Norn’s thread. There was no questioning that Jarvis was alive and learning. Hephrodistus showed her records of conversations he’s had with Jarvis along the years and it was obvious how much he changed, growing exponentially after Hephrodistus recovered his memory and magic and gifted his son with a spark of it.

“You’re father’s wife.” A pause again. “I can use a difer-”

“No,” Hela cut him short. “It was just…unexpected.” And she whispered half a breath later, “But not unwelcome.”

And as she observes the white soul moving behind the concrete, it shivered, almost pleased and…something else? She didn’t recognise it.

She moved her eyes to the windows again and her soft smile vanished, the orange glow of dawn flashed against the glass window of something flying outside, blinding her for a second, and she was thrust back at the moment everything went south. She wasn’t sitting in a comfy couch anymore, she wasn’t in a nightgown that would make Odin sneer, and she didn’t have a cup of tea cradled in her hands anymore.

She was suddenly back in Niflheim, Valkyries mounted in their steeds rushed to fight her, her armour hugged her body tightly and her blades were summoned to her hands waiting to shed blood while the oppression of the planet’s gravity pushed against her and tried to overwhelm her body and choke her with its lack of breathable gases.

She moved and stood against the horde of mindless puppets that Odin sent after her, trying to get rid of her. Something crashed, but she didn’t care for it, her eyes focussed on the dozen of pegasi flying at her, fingers wrapping around the hilt of her daggers and ready to attack at the best moment, freezing air rushing to her lungs as she inhaled, and a soft melody filling her ears as she wait…ed-

A blink and Niflheim disappeared from view, the Valkyries and their pegasi were no more, disappearing as if all of it was a simple illusion. She stood, no more clad in her battle gear and black blades in her hands, but covered with a flimsy nightgown as she faced the windows of Stark Tower, frozen in place. Soft music sounded from the speakers and Hephrodistus waited at the arch leading back to the bedroom, observing her with patience and annoying her as he was _staring_ again.

Hela breathed in, deeply, letting the last threads of bubbling rage and anticipation for a battle to come, vanish.

“Stop. Staring.” She hissed at him, angry, but at herself or him, she wasn’t sure.

She looked down at the broken ceramic on the floor and glared. The tea splashed against the white rug and the tiles, and pieces of the cup were scattered all over the place, mocking her and raising her temper.

Hephrodistus released a sigh somewhere at her left and moved. She growled at the floor, waving a hand and expecting the mess to vanish, growling when nothing happened. This situation was turning so tedious…and she didn’t have her magic yet. _That_ was going to be a nightmare to deal with. Hephrodistus used his own power to clean the spilt tea and broken cup without comment, leaving her along a second later.

She knows deep down that the easy and slow pace is for her own good. Her unplanned stay at Niflheim will have many consequences over her body and magic—and also her mind, as it seems—that she’ll need to fix soon or she’s going to be driven mad at the uncontrollable reactions she’s having. _Hephrodistus is trying to help me_ , she repeats like a mantra in her head, to avoid going in search of the Olympian and starting a fight to release the tension she’s feeling.

She can’t help feeling like a caged animal though. Ready to snap at a moment’s notice and tear everything and everyone around her to shreds; and she **hates it!** She can’t remember the last time she had such uncontrollable urges and reactions. It’s like going through puberty all over again and hormones making her react before her mind is able to catch up. She knows that feeling is because of her magic lashing out after years trapped in Niflheim and useless, and now bound and unreachable, but it’s frustrating nonetheless.

She’s not a mindless beast! She straightens, nails biting the palm of her hand as she fights the urge to rage and destroy everything available in her vicinity. She’s not! And she starts practising the breathing exercises she was taught the first day she woke up. She will regain control of herself! She relaxes her body, every muscle twitching involuntarily, but she forces the process until she’s completely soft and crossing her legs over the rug without any incidents. This time.

She will get over this. Like she’s survived all the wars and hardships Odin put in front of her over the years.

Hela closes her eyes and sighs, relaxing her mind with the help of the soft music sounding from the speakers.

She can do this.

…

And if she can’t, well, Odin better be ready, she thinks maliciously.

She smothers the devious smile and vengeful feelings trying to rise to the surface and take over. Stepping on them with the strength of all of her desire to be in control of her own body, mind, and magic once more.

Hela takes a deep breath and lets her mind wander over less stressful topics, like the curiosity she feels for the advanced Midgardian culture Hephrodistus’s been teaching her about. That thing they ate last night…what was it? Ice – cream? Hmm, that was nice… She wouldn’t mind trying some of the other flavours Hephrodistus mentioned.


	4. Getting acclimated

“What is this _gala_ about?” She asks, watching Tony fixing his hair in front of the mirror, in his mortal disguise, and dressed very much…appealing.

“My adoptive mother ran many charities to help people in need. This is the first of the year, where the money collected is used to help many orphanages all over the states.”

“And you usually dress like this?” Hela asked, fingering the neckline of his white shirt.

“See something you like, wife?” Tony asked with a sensual drawl.

She hid a smirk, mumbling “I don’t know yet.”

“Tony, are you-” Pepper said stepping into the bedroom and stopping mid-sentence, giving Hela a smile, “Good evening, Hela.”

“Pepper,” she nodded at the woman.

“Is he ready?”

“I think so,” Hela shrugged stepping away from the doorframe, “But he’s been fussing over his hair in front of the mirror for the past twenty minutes or so…”

Pepper snorted and they shared a mischievous smile, with Tony exclaiming ‘Hey!’ very loudly from the bathroom.

A while later the two leave and Hela is left to her own devices in the penthouse. She spends a few minutes reading, until the silence starts bothering her again and she puts the tablet away with a huff. She stays lying on the couch for a moment longer yet, extending a hand in the air and glancing up at her fingers, _feeling_ her magic move, trapped under her skin but still very far from her reach, wondering where Wesson is and if Eros is still around.

In the past week, she’s fought tooth and nail to earn this level of calmness, fighting time and again against her own mind wandering over things she can’t do anything about at the moment and growing increasingly frustrated, until she accepted that her fat- **_that man_** _betrayed her_.

After all she’s done for him; all the _worlds_ she conquered, in _his_ name; all the _lives_ she took, to _please_ him; all that she learned, or didn’t, because he said so — _ordered her to_. And after all those years, all the incessant training, struggle, fights, bloodshed, battles lost and won, her unwavering loyalty — even in the face of her very much _unwilling_ marriage to a man of his choosing, without even a single warning beforehand, all because it was… _convenient_ — and he turned against her.

And, why? Because she expressed her displeasure with the path he wanted to take next? Did she speak too loudly, maybe? Or did she express herself with the wrong words? She knows her temperament is short, and she knows that sometimes she comes off as stubborn and pushy, but, she has always — **_always_** — been careful when talking to Odin. So, then, what did she _do_ to earn his scorn? What did she _do_ to deserve five thousand years caged and locked away like a feral animal?

Before letting her raising anger get the best of her, Hela stands from the couch and physically shakes the tiresome mood that insists on setting its roots on her again and again.

“Jarvis, is anyone else home?”

“No, mother. Eros and Wesson left earlier for lunch and haven’t returned yet.”

She walks to the bedroom and changes her clothes, putting on a different black nightgown this time. This one, Pepper’s choice and gift, is still silk but longer, covering more skin without feeling stifling, but still as pretty as the one Hephrodis- Tony gave her, she has to remember to call him that in her head too, unless she makes the mistake of calling him by the wrong address when — if — they ever go out together, in front of people who know nothing of the real Tony Stark. Also, she grabs the black ‘kimono’ Pepper paired the nightgown with when she gifted the clothes to her.

Ready for the night, she walks out once more and starts wandering around the penthouse.

As Heph- Tony told her, the penthouse isn’t just the floor they reside on, or where the living room and kitchen are. The floors bellow them are also part of _their_ home.

Taking the stairs to the floor below, she goes past the living room and walks into the next one. The room is divided by a thick wall — _not crystal, but a one-way mirror, dear!_ — that can turn transparent or black just by asking Jarvis. To the right, the library expands with almost unlimited amounts of books, with many couches and arm-chairs in the middle where she spends hours at a time, reading and relaxing — forgetting all her troubles, anger and worries. On the floor below is the med-bay, the gym, and a swimming pool she plans to try tomorrow.

But for now, behind the one-way wall, is what Tony calls a theatre. She steps inside and sits in the first row of chairs, getting comfortable and thanking Jarvis when the lights dim without needing her prompting.

“What will we watch tonight, Jarvis?” She asks and the big screen turns to life.

“What do you feel like watching, mother?”

“Maybe… something of Disney?” She speaks the word carefully, tasting it and waiting for Jarvis’ answer.

“Disney has many different movies. The most popular are those of the Princesses: Mulan, a warrior princess that saves China; Snow White, whose step-mother’s chases her away from her home; Sleeping Beauty, the poisoned princess that wakes after a kiss of true love-” at her scoff, he changes tune, “Lilo & Stitch is one of father’s favourite though, and it’s about a little girl and his extra-terrestrial pet-friend.”

“Is that one fun?”

Jarvis hums, letting her know his disagreement without the need of words.

She laughs softly, “Which one is _your_ favourite, Jarvis?”

“That is difficult to say,” he makes a short pause, “I like Johnny Deep’s movies and The Pirates of the Caribbean are especially good, but also Dwayne Johnson is one of my favourite actors and The Game Plan is a good and fun movie…”

“But?”

“But, in my humble opinion, WALL-E is the best.”

Hela hums and her mouth twitches, “Let’s see it then.”

The screen comes to life and a few names start appearing, a castle with a big logo of ‘Walt Disney’ and then a lamp, _a lamp_ jumping on the ‘I’ of PIXAR. She snorts at that; humans are so weird! Then tall skyscrapers appear on the screen, and the view changes, advances, and she notices most of those ‘skyscrapers’ are actually…garbage? Something moves in the otherwise deserted wasteland, and an insect joins the…is that a little robot?

A scene shows a paper with news of ‘Too much trash! Earth covered’ and Hela understands. Is a version of this planet, covered by trash, and the little robot is the…sole survivor?

She hums, wondering why Jarvis likes this movie, but keeps silent and continues watching.

* * *

“Hello,” Hela says, turning her head to the left, and the movie pauses as the lights turn on.

A low chirrup from the metal arm of Dum-E greets her and puts a carton cup of something in her lap. She grabs it before it falls and looks at it with surprise. Tony told her about Dum-E’s smoothies, full of oil and whatever he finds lying around, that are always impossible to drink, and only ever made for those he likes, like Rhodey, because he plays with him.

“Is this for me?” She asked surprised and the metal arm move up and down with more enthusiastic and louder blips coming from him. “Thank you.”

Dum-E makes an odd twist, happy she supposes. And then, U is also there, holding a big bowl of something white that also lands on her lap.

“Oh, is this also for me? Thank you.”

The sounds from U are different, softer, and less…shrill? And he puts his metal claw softly on her shoulder, making a sound akin to purring — she’s not lying, it sounded just like that — when she patted the claw with a hand. Of course, Dum-E didn’t want to be left out and his claw fell on her knee a second later.

“What is this, Jarvis?” Hela asked, raising the bowl to eye level and smelling the food. They looked small and white, and the smell was not at all unpleasant.

“That is popcorn. A common food people like to prepare and eat when they watch a movie, or some other kind of entertainment.”

Hela pops a ‘popcorn’ in her mouth tentatively and hums. It was actually nice.

“What is it made of? It’s good.”

“Corn and a little bit of oil; the mix is heated evenly, at a moderate temperature, until the grains pop; and then, sugar or salt is added, depending on personal taste.”

“And what about this drink? What is it?”

“For once, I think Dum-E created something meant to be ingested,” Jarvis said with a tone of amusement. “It’s milk, sugar and some of the frozen fruits father keeps in the fridge; blueberries, strawberries, and cherries.”

Hela takes a small sip from the straw of the cup and lets the flavour sit in her tongue to taste it. It’s sweet and fruity, but not too sweet and she’s thankful for that. She’s surprised by all of this; she wasn’t expecting it.

“Are you staying to watch the movie too?” She asks to the bots, who agree with soft sounds and fix their cameras in the direction of the screen.

The lights turn off once more when everyone is ready and the movie restarts where it was paused. Hela eats her treats and the bots make small noises here and there all through it. It’s surprisingly relaxing, and by the end of the movie, she’s too comfortable and content to move from her spot, so she falls asleep on the chair when the credits start to roll down.

* * *

All throughout the gala, Tony couldn’t stop worrying. He had a few drinks and made his rounds as usual, smiling for the press and giving a few minutes to Christine when she made her appearance, but still, the feeling persisted and Pepper noticed.

It was maybe an hour or so later, when his phone pinged with a notification from Jarvis, and excusing himself with the people he was talking to, that he walked to the nearest alcove and took it out expecting to find a message saying the tower was on fire or something.

When Pepper appeared and hovered over his shoulder to look at his phone sometime later — he was watching the video for the fifth time, full of incredulity and an odd warmth spreading in his chest — she cooed at it.

“That is so sweet,” Pepper said with a soft tone, kissed his cheek, gave him a warning to not take too long and return to the party soon, and left.

Tony nodded dumbly, and in the video, Hela patted the bot’s claws, with a soft smile he rarely — if ever — saw on her before, while all of them watched WALL-E. When the video ended this time, he put it away and smiled like a loon for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with those high notes, this part is finished! ╰(*°▽°*)╯  
> I enjoyed writing these last chapters. I think my Hela came out pretty well.  
> What do you guys think?


End file.
